


It’s Not the Apocalypse, but Close Enough

by Uozumi



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Dark, I Blame Tumblr, M/M, Monsters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-03 02:02:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1727081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uozumi/pseuds/Uozumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started when a creature attacked the prime minister and soon what was supposed to be a controlled takeover of Britain spiraled out of control until Jamie and Malcolm had to help clean the mess up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One, in which the prime minister is attacked and Glasgow becomes a target.

**Author's Note:**

> **Fandom** _The Thick of It_  
>  **Character(s)/Pairing(s)** Sam Cassidy, Jamie MacDonald, Ice Man, Unnamed Prime Minister, Ollie Reeder, Malcolm Tucker, Malcolm’s niece; Malcolm/Jamie  
>  **Genre** Alternate Universe/Dark/Drama/Dystopian/Monster/Science Fiction/Slash  
>  **Rating** NC-17  
>  **Word Count** 6,866 of 19,558  
>  **Disclaimer** The Thick of It c. Iannucci, BBC  
>  **Summary** It started when a creature attacked the prime minister and soon what was supposed to be a controlled takeover of Britain spiraled out of control until Jamie and Malcolm had to help clean the mess up.  
>  **Warning(s)** violence, gore, murder, immolation, fire, earthquake, death, incendiary bombs, grotesque humanoid creatures, unexplained phenomena, consequences of hypoglycaemia, sex without protection, sword play, incurable disease, potential spoilers for all series and specials of _The Thick of It_  
>  **Notes** I keep seeing this _World War Z_ / _Utopia_ photoset on Tumblr and it wouldn’t leave me alone. That said, this fic isn’t really particularly linked to either fandom. I decided to fashion “Ice Man” after Mycroft Holmes from _Sherlock_ because I needed him to be a character with dialogue and I can easily hear Gatiss’ voice which helps in creating dialogue. That said, I’m not sure I’d classify this as a proper crossover. The hypoglycaemia is a headcanon of mine I poke about from time to time.   
> **Chapter** One, in which the prime minister is attacked and Glasgow becomes a target.

**_It’s Not the Apocalypse, but Close Enough_  
I. **

It was like any other official appearance outside Number Ten by the prime minister. There were reporters present and security. Jamie stood out of the view of the cameras and watched, listening to the prime minister address the small crowd. The weather was pleasant and the prime minister was on point. Suddenly there was something grey out of the corner of Jamie’s eye. Someone screamed and the prime minister toppled to the ground, covered by a large grey humanoid. The creature bit down on the prime minister’s face and tore the flesh free from muscle tissue. The prime minister struggled against it, but the creature’s arms were noticeably longer than a human’s arms in proportion to the body and its skin was loose and saggy.

Jamie did not think. He rushed forward and grabbed the microphone stand. With a swift swing, he slammed the base of the stand into the creature’s skull, knocking it off the prime minister. He could hear security shouting at him and he could hear the reporters talking quickly, but Jamie did not process their words. Jamie focussed on the creature. He continued to hit it with the microphone stand, splattered blood so dark it appeared black with each strike. The creature was stunned at first, but it was quickly recovering. Its long, curved nails lunged for Jamie. A group of security tackled the creature then and forced its limbs behind his back. Jamie still gripped the microphone stand tightly. A bullet to the creature’s temple killed it. Jamie’s chest rose and fell. His eyes did not move from the creature’s elongated face and long, prominent nose. It looked like a corpse stretched into a costume mask. 

Jamie heard noise behind him. It was paramedics attending to the prime minister. Jamie dropped the microphone stand. His heart raced. Someone touched his shoulder and he jumped. 

“Did it touch you?” one of Jamie’s colleagues asked. 

“No,” Jamie said. They watched the ambulance leave. The security team was already transporting the creature to a van that pulled up nearby. Jamie took deep breaths, trying to slow his heart rate down to normal. “What the fuck was that?”

“Looked like something out of a movie,” the colleague said. “Unlucky bastard,” he said. 

Jamie looked down at his hands and his clothes. He was covered in long ropes of dark, congealed creature blood. He made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. “I don’t want to know what it’s going to take to fucking clean this shite.” He grasped the blood in his hand and pulled it from his suit. It was thicker than human blood and held its shape easily. “Ugh.” 

“Sir, we need you to come with us,” one of the remaining paramedics said. “You need to be decontaminated.” 

Jamie looked at him. “You can’t be fucking serious.”

“Do you want to try and wash that out yourself?” the paramedic asked. “Do you want to know what diseases might be associated with that blood?”

Jamie sighed. He let the paramedics take him and some others who had the creature’s blood on them away for decontamination and testing. 

In his office, Malcolm sat hard on his chair and stared at the television. The feed cut out when Jamie knocked the creature off the prime minister. No station carried the speech or mentioned what was happening. Malcolm stood up and headed out of his office. He had to see. He needed to know what happened. Sam looked up at him when he passed her desk. Malcolm motioned for Sam to follow. He did not know what he would find, but it put him on edge. When they reached the stairs, the building went into lockdown. No one was allowed inside or outside. 

Malcolm got out his mobile. He tried Jamie and the prime minister. Neither mobile was turned on. Malcolm leaned against the railing and tried other numbers he knew would have seen what happened. “Fuck,” he whispered. 

“What’s going on?” she asked. 

“I don’t know,” Malcolm said. He scrolled through the numbers on his mobile. “I need a press number.”

Sam got out her mobile and accessed an excel document. She read off names and then the number of the name Malcolm requested. 

Malcolm put his mobile to his ear and listened to it ring. His jaw tightened. He tried the number again. No one answered. He tried other numbers, but only met others trying to figure out what happened. Malcolm shoved his mobile into his pocket and rubbed his face. “Nobody knows anything,” he said. “This thing comes out of nowhere and attacks the prime minister and nobody knows a fucking thing.” 

“What?” Sam asked. 

“It looked like a stretched out person,” Malcolm said. “Jamie went after it and then the broadcast stopped.” He felt his knees weaken. He put his hands in his pockets. 

Sam put a hand on his arm. “What do you need?” 

Malcolm took a deep breath. His head felt light. “Fanta. I need a Fanta.” He went upstairs and Sam went downstairs. He had been struggling with hypoglycaemia for a year. Sam knew his triggers and attack symptoms better than he did. Malcolm retreated to his office so he could recover without anyone realising he was out of sorts. He turned on the television. There was footage of the creature attacking the prime minister, though it was so brief it was hard to discern if it was a man in a costume or not. The headline claimed a protester attacked the prime minister. 

Sam appeared with the Fanta. She looked at the television. “That’s not…human,” Sam said quietly. She sounded uncertain. 

“It didn’t look human,” Malcolm said. He opened the Fanta. “The clip should be longer.” He drank the Fanta slowly. He tried to contact Jamie again, but Jamie’s mobile was still off. Malcolm leaned back in his seat. His eyes drifted to Sam. She was watching the television intently. “What?” Malcolm asked. 

Sam opened her mouth and then closed it. “It’s not human,” she said. She blinked and then looked at Malcolm. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Malcolm said. “I’ll be fine.” He knew she would head in and out of his office periodically to make certain until he looked fine. He did not mind it. 

Once inside the hospital, Jamie and the others were ushered into a special room. Personnel in hazmat uniforms stripped them of their clothing and began to hose them down with a chemical that stung Jamie’s nose every time he inhaled. The personnel scrubbed them down until their skin was raw and their scalps burnt. Jamie gritted his teeth. Some people cried through the process. 

Despite the raw sting, the cleanse repeated three times. While the decontamination occurred, the personnel spoke to them, asking them to remember how a protester tried to kill the prime minister. Jamie could feel his memories slipping. The room was humid and the voices remained calm and suggestive. The protester carried a toxic sludge. Jamie had ripped open the container when he hit the protester. The personnel reiterated the story on the news repeatedly. 

When Jamie left the hospital, they gave him red scrubs to wear home. A car picked him up and two agents quizzed him and made him sign a confidentiality agreement for the sake of national security. The car took him home. It was late at night and dark. Jamie was starving. He found a frozen meal to heat up for nights like this. Just as the microwave beeped, there was a knock on his door. 

Jamie approached the door cautiously. It was Malcolm. Jamie undid the locks and let him inside. “What the hell? It’s after midnight,” Jamie said. 

“I came after the lockdown ended,” Malcolm said. His eyes swept over Jamie from Jamie’s head to his feet and back up again. His shoulders relaxed slightly. “You’re bright red,” he said. It was a strange look. Malcolm was used to Jamie being pink and rosy, but this looked raw and inflamed. 

“I am cleaner than God,” Jamie said. He shut and locked his door. He ran a hand through his hair. 

Malcolm’s nose wrinkled. He covered it. A chemical smell burnt his nostrils whenever he inhaled. “Fucking hell.”

“Cleaner than God,” Jamie said. He led the way deeper into the house once Malcolm’s coat was on a rack near the door. 

“What was that thing anyway?” Malcolm stayed far enough away that the burning in his nose was mild. 

“Protester,” Jamie said. He took the food out of the microwave so it could cool and then rubbed his face. “Do you want anything?” He gestured to the fridge. 

“It wasn’t a fucking protester,” Malcolm said. He settled into a corner of the kitchen. “I saw the thing on television live.”

“It was a protester,” Jamie repeated. He rooted around for a fork. “It was a protester,” Jamie said in a firmer voice. 

“It fucking wasn’t and you know it,” Malcolm said. “I mean you hit it in the head and there was all this black shite that just went fucking everywhere.” 

“Toxic waste. I hit some bag of something,” Jamie said. His voice was distant. He stared down at the food that was still too hot to eat. 

Malcolm frowned. He walked over and gripped Jamie’s shoulders, turning Jamie so he could see Jamie’s eyes. Jamie’s eyes were dilated and as distant as his voice. Malcolm’s jaw tightened. “It’s this chemical shite.” He grabbed Jamie’s wrist and started tugging Jamie upstairs. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Jamie said, but he allowed Malcolm to tug him along. 

“Everything’s wrong,” Malcolm said. He shoved Jamie into the shower and turned on the spray. Malcolm found soap, shampoo, and a washcloth. “Use this,” he said and pressed the soap and wash cloth into Jamie’s hands. “Then wash your hair.” 

“I’m still in my clothes,” Jamie murmured, but he obeyed. Jamie stripped out of the soaked scrubs has he lathered the soap across his skin. 

Malcolm looked away when it seemed Jamie was complying without problem. “Do it two more times,” Malcolm said. “Or until you start sounding normal.” He sat on a small ledge near the window. 

“I can’t believe you’re fucking watching this,” Jamie said after he rinsed and lathered enough times that the soap was so thin it broke in half and the shampoo was almost gone. 

“I’m not ‘fucking watching this,’” Malcolm said. 

Jamie sighed. “I need a towel.” 

Malcolm retrieved one from the stack beside him. He tossed it to Jamie who caught it. Jamie started to dry off and stepped out onto the rug. He wrapped the towel around his waist. Reflecting on earlier events, Jamie supposed Malcolm in the same room while he showered was the least weird occurrence that day. Jamie left the room to put on clothes. 

Malcolm eyed the scrubs at the floor of the shower. He picked up another towel and picked up the scrubs carefully, using the towel to touch them. He squeezed the water out as much as he could and wrapped it up in a second towel. He left the bundle on the floor of the shower. They would have to burn the scrubs and towels, but that would come later. 

Jamie appeared in the doorway. He watched Malcolm. “What the fuck’s going on?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” Malcolm said. He washed his hands in the sink three times and then joined Jamie in the hallway. “What happened to you after you hit that thing?”

Jamie headed back downstairs. His mind was a jumble, dual memories fighting for dominance. “I kept hitting him and then security took over. There was blood fucking everywhere.” His fingers subconsciously slid down his chest where one of the ropes of blood once was. “At least, I think it was blood.” Jamie grabbed the cold food off the counter and a fork from a drawer. He ate where he stood. He had not eaten since breakfast. “They scrubbed the fuck out of us,” Jamie said. He showed Malcolm his forearm. “I don’t even have arm hair left.” 

When Jamie offered the arm to touch, Malcolm ran his fingers along it. Jamie’s skin was very soft and there were only a few dark hairs left. Malcolm frowned. He put his hands in his pockets. “I wonder how many of those things there are.” 

Jamie was almost finished with his food. “One is one cunt too many,” he said. He finished his food and threw the container away. Jamie ran a hand through his own hair and winced. His scalp stung. He licked his lips and looked at Malcolm. 

Malcolm knew Jamie also wondered if there might be more creatures. Malcolm glanced past Jamie and out the kitchen window. There was nothing in the darkness that he could see. 

Jamie looked at Malcolm. He touched Malcolm’s arm and headed towards the stairs. Neither spoke, the invitation for Malcolm to share the bed was clear enough. It was not the first time they shared Jamie’s bed. Divested of their clothing, they climbed in under the sheets and fell asleep, backs facing each other. Malcolm’s weight on the other side of the bed helped Jamie’s shoulder relax and eyes close. Jamie’s quiet snoring and even breathing helped Malcolm’s mind wander until Malcolm was dreaming more than thinking. 

Two hours later, their mobiles rang simultaneously. Jamie grunted. He could feel Malcolm’s head resting against his back. Malcolm slowly moved away and sat up, accepting the call. Jamie reluctantly sat up and answered his own mobile. 

“Have you seen the news?” was all their colleagues could ask. 

Jamie leaned over Malcolm and found the clicker. The television’s volume was very quiet, but sound was not necessary. The leading headline was the death of the prime minister. The news claimed that the prime minister succumbed to his injuries from the attack earlier. The newscaster spoke about the prime minister’s life and accomplishments. 

Malcolm let out a slow breath. “Fuck,” he whispered. 

Jamie licked his lips. His eyes moved to the bedroom windows. Everything outside was dark. 

Malcolm and Jamie ended the calls on their mobiles and dressed. There would be a scramble to secure positions, retain power, and adjust to whomever would succeed the prime minister. 

Sam arrived to work twenty minutes after Malcolm arrived. He looked up when she entered his office bearing tea and a muffin. 

“It’s not even dawn,” Malcolm said. He moved some papers so Sam could set the food down on his desk. 

“I know,” Sam said. “What do you need me to arrange?” 

Malcolm ran his tongue along the edge of his teeth. “I need,” he started to rattle off names, “in the conference room in,” Malcolm glanced at the clock, “twenty, thirty minutes. Ideally five minutes, but he knew most were not in the building yet. If you have to call their homes to get them here, those numbers should be somewhere. If they still won’t come, let me know.” 

Sam nodded and left to do her job. 

Twenty minutes later, Malcolm walked through the halls with Sam. He spoke rapidly about what he would need her to do while he was in the meeting. He needed to ensure that as things rapidly transitioned, he remained the Director of Communications. “…and then…” Malcolm’s voice trailed and he stopped walking. Sam continued a few steps as she continued writing a note. Malcolm reached out and grabbed her arm, tugging her back. Sam froze and Malcolm’s grip tightened on her arm. 

At the other end of the hall was a similar creature to the one that attacked the prime minister, though its skin was a grey-brown. The creature was naked, it’s arms and legs too long to fit its torso. The nose was long and curved downward. The eyelids, both top and bottom, were too large for the eyes and sagged. The creature flexed its fingers and its long, hard nails clicked against each other. 

Malcolm’s fingers tightened on Sam’s arm. Neither human moved. Malcolm was not certain if pulling Sam behind him would be a good or bad move. Standing still made the creature remain standing still for now. 

Sam took a deep breath. She pushed Malcolm towards the stairs and then took her mobile, smashing it into the glass of the fire alarm. Once the glass broke, she used her mobile to press the button. The fire alarm sounded across the building. 

The creature ran towards them. Malcolm grabbed Sam’s hand and helped propel both of them forward quickly. They rushed down the stairs, but the creature was faster. It jumped over their heads and crouched at the bottom of the stairs. Malcolm spread his arms out so his fingertips touched the railings on either side of the stairs. He spread his legs apart but not so much he would lose height. Malcolm raised his chin. He spread his fingers. He made eye contact with the creature. “Fuck off,” Malcolm said. “Go on, fuck off.” His voice was firm and commanding. 

The creature tilted its head. It blinked and squinted its eyes at Malcolm. 

Malcolm pressed his lips into a fine line. He tried not to blink. He kept his back straight and his chin high. The fire alarm still echoed through the building. Sirens approached in the distance. The creature looked over its shoulder as the fire engine’s flashing lights bounced off the lobby. It turned towards the flashing lights and ran out the door. 

Sam tugged on Malcolm’s jacket, but he needed no encouragement. Once the monster was out of the building, they ran back up the stairs. Both of their mobiles began to ring, but neither answered. Malcolm grabbed Sam’s hand so he could get both of them down the hall as fast as possible. They entered an emergency stairwell and rushed down the stairs. At the exit, Malcolm and Sam paused. Malcolm pushed the door open and looked outside. He saw no threats. “Let’s wait here,” Malcolm said. He closed the door and took a breath. He leaned against the wall near the door. 

Sam leaned against the other side of the door. Her eyes turned to the stairs. Their mobiles continued to ring. Gunfire echoed outside. Sam closed her eyes briefly. A firefighter found them a few minutes after the gunfire subsided. 

Hours later, it was dark outside again and it looked like Tom would become the next leader of the party. Malcolm and Sam left the building together, which was not unusual. Jamie fell into step with them on the ground floor. They stepped out to the front of the building. Sam’s partner waited for her and she waved before departing home. 

Malcolm watched her leave and then looked at Jamie. Jamie was already watching Malcolm. Malcolm took a breath, looked around, and then started walking, knowing Jamie would follow. “It was another one,” Malcolm said, quiet enough Jamie could barely hear. Malcolm’s lips did not move. 

Jamie put his hands in his pockets. He had gone with other colleagues to talk away from the chaos. He heard the gunshots, but he had not seen the why or the immediate aftermath. “So you saw it?” he asked just as quietly. 

“Yeah,” Malcolm said. He bit his tongue briefly. “The eyes…” He shook his head.

“I didn’t get a good look at them,” Jamie said. He felt like he could not remember the creature any longer. He just remembered a large, melted dog in an anorak. He knew it was wrong, but his brain could not supply the correct image. 

“I did,” Malcolm said. “Fucking freak of nature.” They arrived at the corner where they would normally part. Malcolm looked at Jamie and Jamie looked at Malcolm. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jamie said. He touched Malcolm’s arm and turned towards home. 

Malcolm nodded and walked towards his own home. He checked over his shoulder as he walked, but there was nothing unusual. Neither of them slept that night.

The news claimed that nearly a dozen protests erupted over central London, but they were all swiftly dealt with by authorities. The news put Jamie on edge. He spent the night drifting in and out of sleep on the couch while the television continued to broadcast. He still could not remember the creature that attacked the prime minister clearly. The death toll in the protests was ten people including the prime minister. Jamie could not remember what the creature had done to the prime minister anymore. He remembered something jumping the prime minister and then fending it off with the microphone stand. In his dreams, Jamie imagined the creature ripping the prime minister’s face off, but Jamie was not sure if that was a memory or a product of enjoying horror movies. 

After the outbreak of a dozen protesters, there was no more talk of mysterious toxic protest deaths. The party fell into opposition at the next election and the workload increased for everyone. Malcolm and Jamie gravitated towards one another on nights when they were the only people left working. The felling of their shared weight in bed together was comforting. 

It was winter now and the television was on in the background while Malcolm and Jamie finished up on paperwork. Jamie’s ears pricked and he set his pen down and turned his attention to the television. 

“…flu season has hit Glasgow the hardest,” the newscaster said. “Several workers have taken leave of absence due to illness and the death toll is already at record levels.” 

Malcolm stopped reading the pages in front of him and looked at the screen. The report had been filmed hours ago when it was still daylight in Glasgow. There was hardly anyone in the city centre where the newscaster spoke. “Some people say that Glasgow should be put under quarantine, but there’s no word on how that would work or if such a quarantine is effective in today’s society.” 

“What about the rest of Scotland, you fucking cunt?” Jamie asked. His family lived in rural areas with the exception on one nephew who attended Glasgow University. 

“This is the worst flu season since the advent of flu vaccines,” the newscaster said. The newscaster began to rattle off statistics and gave no more details about the situation outside of a historical and statistical perspective.

“It’s a bunch of bollocks,” Malcolm said. “They’re not telling us anything. Even the articles on it are just facts and figures to fill space.”

“Do you think it’s more of those…things?” Jamie asked. The news had graphs and charts up on the screen now. 

“No,” Malcolm said. “This is code for something else.” He ran his thumb along his pen in thought. 

Later that night, Malcolm and Jamie went to Malcolm’s house. The choice to spend the night together was left until it was time to go home always. There was no schedule to it. Malcolm let them inside and rubbed his face. He looked around. Everything was as he left it. There were no creatures lurking. 

The bed was warmer with two people in it. Malcolm had his back to Jamie, but he knew Jamie was lying on his back. Malcolm could hear Jamie breathing and knew Jamie was still awake. They had been in bed for an hour silently. Jamie knew Malcolm was awake as well. Jamie took a breath. “What if we’re making those things?” he asked quietly. “What if it’s some kind of fucking weapon? You give people a ‘flu,’ and then they start getting all stringy like a fucked up steak?”

“What?” Malcolm asked. He thought he understood the question, but his brain was too tired to play stuck in a horror movie. 

“What if the people who made those things attacked everyone on purpose?” Jamie asked. 

Malcolm rolled onto his stomach so he could look at Jamie. “You’ve watched too much of that Lego shite.” It sounded like something from the movies his niece watched the video games she liked to play over the years. 

“Lego…? What are you talking about?” Jamie asked. “If we can make a vaccine against any disease, why can’t we make a new disease? It makes more fucking sense than random aliens.”

Malcolm frowned. He sighed. “If it is us, then who’s in charge of it?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” Jamie said. They lapsed into silence. Jamie rolled onto his side so he could see Malcolm’s face in the darkness. ‘If it is us,” meaning the government, “and we’re targeting each other, we should probably figure out who’s doing it before you and I get fucked.”

“And then we really would get fucked,” Malcolm said. 

“Do you want to go up against another one of those fuckers?” Jamie asked with a yawn. He stretched so that his joints cracked. 

“Do you want to become one of those fuckers?” Malcolm asked. 

Jamie did not answer. He watched Malcolm for a long time. Jamie then rolled closer, giving up the pretence that they would not end up all but sleeping on top of one another later that night and got comfortable. He closed his eyes. 

Malcolm could hear Jamie’s breathing even. Malcolm let out a small sigh. He propped himself up and took a good look around the room and at the windows. It was dark and nothing was amiss or unusual. Malcolm lay back down on his side and curled up to Jamie, closing his eyes. Sleep eventually found him. 

Glasgow began quarantine the next morning. There was significant threat to spread of a deadly illness. The story going around the offices was that it was not the flu but an unknown pathogen. While it was debilitating Glasgow, it had yet to leave the city. The story the public heard was that the quarantine was an effort to keep the “flu” from spreading and this year was an especially harsh strain. 

Jamie met with one of his contacts from NHS. She was as old as his oldest sister and he found treating her as such got him farther than flirtation or bollocking ever could. Jamie kept his face open and young. He kept his hands in his pockets. “So, what’s the real story?” he asked. “How safe is Scotland?” 

His contact sighed. She looked around. No one looked at them or acknowledged them. “I know you have family there,” she said, “but you have to keep it to yourself. If it comes back to me that this is out, I will not speak with you again.”

“Fair enough,” Jamie said. It was just personal curiosity for himself. He also knew Malcolm would want to know. What was left of Malcolm’s family lived there. He knew Malcolm would not pass the information farther. 

They took several more steps while Jamie’s contact organized her thoughts. Finally, she said, “We don’t know what it is, but there are some theories. It’s a disease we’ve not seen before. It’s attacking anyone whose brain has fully grown, so most victims are in their late thirties or older.” 

“How would it only do that?” Jamie wrinkled his nose. It sounded like something that could wipe out all world governments with few, inexperienced exceptions. 

“I don’t know,” she said. “What I know is that no one will leave or enter the city. We haven’t gotten any cases outside of Glasgow yet.”

“But there will be,” Jamie said. “They’ve been talking about how bad it is for days now. People entered and left the city the whole time.”

“Yes,” she admitted. “It’s very aggressive. It will take extreme measures to prevent it spreading.” 

“Can a younger person pass it to an older person?” Jamie asked.

“Probably, but we don’t know. We’ve not seen anything like this before,” she said. “I don’t have much I can tell you, because there’s a lot we still don’t know. That’s why this must stay quiet. Otherwise, it will cause panic. We can tell everyone when we have some kind of solution.”

Jamie nodded. “Thank you,” he said as he might to his sister. 

“I hope next time we talk it will be under better circumstances,” she said. His contact touched Jamie’s shoulder and then left back the way they came. 

Malcolm went home without Jamie that evening. Both of them needed time to process the quarantine and contact various family. Malcolm’s family was distinctively smaller than Jamie’s family. It was only his sister’s family and himself and had been since their parents died in the seventies. Malcolm slowed as he approached his house. He could see someone sitting on the steps. Their head was bent and resting on their hand. Malcolm slowed his pace and removed his glasses from his pocket. When he put them on, he could make out frayed jeans and a pink jumper that was reminiscent of the pink jewelled cushion on his sofa. Malcolm tucked his glasses away and approached at a normal pace. “What are you doing?” he asked.

His niece jumped and looked up at him. “Oh. Thank God, it’s you,” she said. She had a laptop bag at her feet along with a purse. She rubbed her face and stood up hurriedly to get out of his way. She was about twenty-years-old and studied at the University of Glasgow. 

“How long have you been out here?” Malcolm asked. 

“Uh…um…” she looked at her watch, “I kind of spent time at a café until I couldn’t stand it. I’ve been here maybe three hours? I’ve been in London since almost ten this morning.” 

Malcolm sighed. “If you give me that flu…” his voice was gentle as he might use with Sam and it did not sound like a viable threat. 

His nice followed him into the house. Once the door was closed and locked, she said, “It’s not a flu.” 

Malcolm looked at her and hung up their coats. “What is it?”

She hesitated. “First, there’s a fever, but it doesn’t get too bad.” She followed Malcolm to the kitchen. “Then, they can’t remember things.” She toyed with a thread on her jumper. “Then…” her voice thinned.

Malcolm put the kettle on and looked at her. She was in the corner of the kitchen, arms tight against her sides and she slouched. She was taller than Jamie but shorter than Malcolm and it was almost impressive how tiny she could make herself. 

“Then they die,” she said quietly. “Blood everywhere.” Her nose wrinkled. “From their eyes…from their…” she quieted when Malcolm hugged her. She buried her face in his shoulder and hugged him tightly. “Sorry,” she whimpered. “I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t go anywhere else.”

Malcolm placed a hand protectively against the back to her head. She cried into his shoulder. When the crying stopped, they sat at the table and she explained that both of her parents had contracted the illness and died within two days of the fever appearing. She had gone to check up on them after work and found their bodies. 

“I panicked,” she said, clutching the mug in front of her tightly. “I just ran. I didn’t know what to do. I got on the last train to Edinburgh like I could go to Gran’s or something. Then I came here on the first train.” Her father’s mother, who lived in Edinburgh, died last year. 

Malcolm slid his finger along the curve of his mug. He ran his tongue along the edge of his teeth in thought. “You can stay here,” he said. “Recover. Get back on your feet. The quarantine can’t last forever.”

His niece nodded. “I’ll pull my weight,” she said.

Malcolm nodded. “I have a spare key. Summer holidays rules. Nobody is invited in the house unless I know they’re coming over. No food upstairs. I want things to stay organised and clean around the house. What you eat, what you do is up to you, but this house and the things in it will be respected.” When his niece was in the later years of secondary school, she would come to London for a week in July. Malcolm’s rules were easy enough for her to follow then, and he suspected they would be just as easy to follow now. He frowned, “And one more, which isn’t a rule so much as a precaution.” He leaned forward at the table, making eye contact. “There are a group of protesters who enjoy eco-terrorism,” he said the lie enough he almost believed in a secondary group lurking behind the creatures with their bags of toxins. “It’s been a while since any of them did anything, but because they’re out there, text me when you’ll be home. That way I know if anything’s wrong. I don’t need to know where you’re going or what you’re doing, just when you should be here.” 

His niece nodded. “I can do that.” She finished her tea. “Thank you.” 

It was days later. Jamie had the television on during his lunch hour. His family was in a panic with the “protesters” in London and now the quarantine in Glasgow. There was word that there had been a case in Edinburgh and three cases in London, but there was nothing on the news about any of them. Jamie sipped his orange juice. He did not know if the increase in vitamin C would keep him health or not. He was not a fan of sweet things, but this brand was palatable the more he brought it with him to drink with lunch. Jamie leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on his desk. He had pasta with spicy, meaty sauce in a container. He managed to eat it without dripping or dropping any of it on his clothes from years of practice. 

“Now we turn to Glasgow,” the newscaster said. 

“It’s day five of the quarantine,” an enthusiastic, young reporter in the field said. “As you can see, there’s a significant decrease in activity behind me. There are reports that the flu is hitting older adults hard with devastating results. So far there aren’t any cases in someone under the age of thirty-five.” 

A large boom echoed through the buildings. The reporter shouted and moved as though a shockwave hit the reporter’s body. “What was that?” the reporter asked. 

“I don’t know,” someone behind the camera said. 

“Keep filmi –” 

The feed cut out and the newscaster returned to the screen. “We’ve lost contact with Glasgow. We’re trying to re-establish contact. Until then…” the newscaster moved on to another topic. 

“Fucking…” Jamie changed the station and froze. Glasgow was on fire. Multiple fires across the city and into the surrounding villages raged. Several were already converging into larger fires. There were shots from distance and aerial views. In some shots, Jamie could see people in cars trying to go through the flames. He saw some people rolling on the ground, trying to put themselves out, not knowing they were surrounded by fire. Jamie’s mobile rang. He answered without thinking. “Start fucking talking,” he said. It was a colleague wondering if Jamie saw the news. Jamie made an affirmative noise and ended the call. 

He knew his nephew was dead. He could see the campus burning briskly. He thought of his older brother, the boy’s father. Their oldest sister would call first. Then their oldest brother would visit. The younger of Jamie’s older sisters would visit next. Jamie looked at the clock. Other nieces and nephews would get involved. Jamie likely would not get hold of his younger of his two older brothers for at least two hours while family triangulated. He took a deep breath. Jamie stood up and stepped around the food on the floor. He wiped pasta off his trousers and left his office. He stopped at a machine for a Fanta and then walked to Malcolm’s office. Sam waved him past. 

The fire still raged on the television. Malcolm’s hands were trembling. Jamie opened the Fanta and set it on the desk. Neither spoke. Malcolm got out his test meter and pricked his finger. When the number flashed on the screen, he took the Fanta from the desk and sipped it slowly. 

Jamie stood, his attention split between the screen and Malcolm. The entire Glasgow area well outside of the city limits was on fire or smouldering. The newscaster’s words were background noise. The visual was enough. Sam brought Malcolm something to sign and stopped. The three of them continued to watch the footage of the fire until Malcolm’s mobile rang, calling him away from the footage to discuss it with others. 

Hours later, Glasgow was still burning. Jamie went home with Malcolm. It was the first time since Malcolm’s niece appeared that Malcolm and Jamie went home with the other. When they got home, Malcolm’s niece was on the sofa with her laptop on her lap, watching the fire continue. She turned the television off when Malcolm and Jamie entered the house. 

“It’s me,” Malcolm called into the house. “I brought Jamie.”

Malcolm’s niece headed towards the door. She looked at both of them. “I was just going to bed.” She waved at Jamie. They had encountered each other off and on over the years. “Do you need anything?” she asked Malcolm. Her eyes looked at his hands, searching for signs his blood sugar might be too low. 

“No,” Malcolm said. “I don’t need anything.” 

She bid them both goodnight and headed on up the stairs with her laptop. 

Once she was gone, Jamie frowned. “She’s taking this well.”

“She probably thinks we’re dating and she’s getting out of our way,” Malcolm said. He hung up their coats. 

“We’re…something,” Jamie murmured. He followed Malcolm deeper into the house. They sat on the sofa. Malcolm wedged himself into the corner and Jamie sat in the opposite corner. “Are you still fucked?” Jamie asked. 

“No,” Malcolm said, “at least not that way.” He felt like his sugar levels were under control now. Stress was not a trigger so much as suddenly, unexpected shocks did not help his body’s chemistry. Malcolm stretched his legs out. 

After a long time of silence, Jamie said, “I think it was a test.” He worked his feet slowly out of his shoes. “For what? I don’t know, but a quarantine and then that…It was a fucking test for fuck knows what.”

“Glasgow was sick,” Malcolm said, “but it wasn’t the flu.” Neither of them told the other what Malcolm’s niece and the NHS contact told them. Malcolm rested his hands on his stomach and slouched farther down in the corner of the sofa. “It’s going to be London burning sooner or later,” he said. 

“There were walls of fire,” Jamie said. “How the fuck do we survive that?”

Malcolm watched Jamie quietly. Everything from the attack on the prime minister to Glasgow burning swirled in his head. It would be easy to blame the current party in power, but the current party in power was in opposition to Malcolm and Jamie’s party when all the strange things began. 

Jamie called his oldest brother hours ago and managed to get in contact. He could still remember his brother’s voice on the phone. Jamie frowned. He knew the villages around Glasgow were burning. The fire did not seem to spread farther than that, but he wondered how such a large area could end up on fire so quickly and how they did not have resources for such a situation. He would have thought, as the world prepared for global terrorism, that a large metropolitan fire would be an planned eventuality. 

Malcolm sighed and then pulled himself up off the sofa. “I’m going to bed.” He did not know if he would sleep. He offered a hand to Jamie, who took it and stood up. Neither of them let go once Jamie was standing. The kiss was mutual, aggressive. Jamie let go of Malcolm’s hand and grabbed onto the lapels of Malcolm’s jacket. Malcolm’s hands slipped under Jamie’s jacket and slid along Jamie’s waist. Jamie moved closer, their hips brushing, stomachs touching. Jamie tugged on Malcolm’s curls and broke the kiss to mouth at Malcolm’s neck. Malcolm smelled of spice and mint. It helped Jamie forget how the creature’s blood smelled of mould and decay. 

A small noise rumbled in the back of Malcolm’s throat. Jamie smelled of citrus, sweat, and fags. Malcolm squeezed Jamie’s ass and tilted his head to the side when Jamie loosened Malcolm’s collar and pushed it aside so Jamie could nip and suck relentlessly at Malcolm’s neck where his collar would cover it up tomorrow. Malcolm took a deep breath. “Not down here,” he whispered. If they were alone in the house, he would not hesitate to shove Jamie onto the sofa and strip him of his clothes. Even then, everything they might need was upstairs anyway. 

“Then show me where,” Jamie said. He stepped back and ran a hand through his own hair to get it out of his eyes. 

Malcolm led the way up the stairs and into his bedroom. He shut and locked the door behind Jamie before knocking Jamie down onto the bed. It was a welcome distraction from the world around them.

**To be continued…**


	2. Two, in which an earthquake puts London into great peril.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two, in which an earthquake puts London into great peril.

**_It’s Not the Apocalypse, but Close Enough_  
II.**

Malcolm and Jamie used sex as an escape over the next several days when they could get away with it. As the fires continued to burn Glasgow and surrounding areas to the ground, the escape became genuine pleasure that was worth exploring in its own right. By now, the flames were almost completely under control and the news claimed it would be a few more days until the threat was completely eliminated. There was a whispered rumour of another “protester,” this time in Manchester, but it had not been confirmed and the news never mentioned it.

Jamie felt Malcolm’s calloused index finger tracing along Jamie’s vertebrae. They lay next to each other naked, partially on their stomachs, partially on their sides, in Malcolm’s bed. Jamie’s right wrist was still handcuffed to one of the decorative columns along the headboard of Malcolm’s bed. The cuff on the headboard was positioned so Jamie had the ability to be on his back or stomach comfortably. Jamie reluctantly reached up and pressed the safety catch on the handcuffs so he could free his arm and rest his shoulder joint. 

It was a Sunday and there was no good reason to go to the office. They could do nothing for Glasgow and security was at a heightened level in London and all other major cities across the kingdom. The sun was up and Malcolm’s niece had long since gone to work at a shop nearby. They could do whatever they wanted, be as loud as they wanted. Jamie let his fingers press firmly along Malcolm’s ribs working their way down Malcolm’s side towards his hip. He flattened his palm against Malcolm’s skin and followed the curve towards Malcolm’s ass. 

Both of their mobiles began to ring. 

Malcolm made a noise somewhere between a quiet moan and a put upon groan. Jamie sighed and pinched Malcolm’s ass before removing his hand and rolling over to grab his trousers from the floor to get at his mobile. “It’s Cockfucker,” Jamie mumbled, his nickname for his second in command. 

Malcolm rolled over and retrieved his mobile from the table beside the bed. “I’ve got Tweedle Cunt,” Malcolm said, referencing Ollie. Dan Miller was Tweedle Cock. 

Pulford, Parcilyn, Sydall, Bryn Pedew, Cymmer, and New Hedges in Wales were empty. There were no signs of struggle. Identification, money, mobiles, and other important things were left where they might lie while people slept. The news promised to sit on the story for an hour only because no one knew how many places in Wales were affected, though highly populated areas appeared be unaffected. 

As the day wore on, more reports came in of similar situations across Wales in any community of about seven-hundred people or fewer. England, Scotland, and Northern Ireland did not experience the phenomena. The story developed through journalism contacts. On the news, the story was about Pulford and Parcilyn, but the rest of the locations added to the report as those watching the news called the stations to report what they knew. 

“Stretched out humans, a disease that attacks full developed brains, the largest fire in recent history, and now some sort of fucking Rapture,” Malcolm said. He was in his office. It was late afternoon. As the opposition, they were trying to stay abreast of the situation. Malcolm frowned. 

“This isn’t the fucking Apocalypse,” Jamie said. “This is someone trying to make it look like it.” 

Sam swept into the room. She set two muffins and two cups of tea down on Malcolm’s desk. She knew how each man took his tea and knew that Malcolm would prefer a blueberry muffin while Jamie would prefer chocolate. 

The cups began to tremble. The tremble grew into a rumble. 

“Under the desk. Under the fucking desk,” Malcolm said. There was just enough room for all of them to protect their heads. The rumbling continued to increase at an alarming rate. Sam grabbed onto a leg of the desk and onto Jamie. Malcolm grabbed onto the opposite leg and Jamie. Jamie got hold of both Sam and Malcolm. The building creaked and groaned under the strain. 

Jamie whispered prayers. It was reflex. He felt Malcolm and Sam’s grips on him tighten and his own did the same. The shaking continued relentlessly. Malcolm closed his eyes. He could hear Jamie’s prayers but he could not make out all of the words. 

Things fell off shelves and from the walls. Everything on Malcolm’s desk shimmied onto the floor. The shaking began to lessen and slowly, excruciatingly subside. Slowly, they emerged from under the desk one by one. Malcolm was tense, his fingers ridged and splayed. Jamie dusted off his suit. Sam began to pick up the things that fell from the desk. 

“Leave it,” Malcolm said, “it’s going to fall in the aftershocks. We need to fucking go. I don’t know what the building can take.” He herded Sam and Jamie towards the door. 

Before they could leave Malcolm’s office, a boom from far away echoed across London. Two booms followed. Jamie went to the window and looked outside. He could see no sign of trouble nearby. “I don’t fucking like it. We’re fucked. Fucking fucked.”

“If we stay,” Malcolm said. He grabbed his coat. 

“I’ve got to get my shite. I’ll see you outside,” Jamie said. He headed down the hall at a brisk pace. 

Colleagues exited the building. There were more booms off at a distance, though there was a longer wait between booms. Sam followed Malcolm and grabbed her purse and coat on their way. “When will the aftershocks start?” she asked. 

“I don’t know,” Malcolm said. “This is the third earthquake I’ve been in.” The other two had been abroad. 

There was smoke at various locations in London. Sirens filled the air. Some buildings were rubble and others still stood. There was visible fire on the western horizon. Jamie joined them and the ground began to rumble again. The aftershock was not as intense as the initial earthquake, but it was strong in its own right. They knelt on the ground so the aftershock would not cause them to lose their balance. Others around them did the same or remained standing only to lose their balance as the aftershock reached its peak. Malcolm covered his head and ears. Sam did the same. Jamie watched everyone else around them. 

An explosion happened a few blocks away. It sounded like all the other booms they heard. Flames shot into the air and added to the other fires in the city. Jamie’s ears rang. He could see Malcolm and Sam’s lips move, but he could not hear them. He watched Malcolm and Sam look off behind Sam and to the left. Jamie followed their gaze and saw flames leap into the air much farther away from them than the last explosion. 

“It’s fucking Glasgow,” Malcolm said. “It’s fucking Glasgow and nature’s decided to fuck us over.” 

Sam removed her hands from her ears. “What?”

“London’s going to burn to the ground,” Malcolm said. “The earthquakes are triggering something, probably whatever fucked Glasgow over.” When the rumbling subsided, he stood up and helped Sam and Jamie to their feet. 

“I have to…” Sam pulled her coat on. “I have to go. I have to make sure…” 

Malcolm knew she was concerned for her partner. “Be careful.”

“You too,” Sam said. She left in the direction of her partner’s workplace. 

Jamie still could not hear. He followed Malcolm and stuck close. When Malcolm broke into a run, Jamie ran after him. His legs were not as long as Malcolm’s legs and his lungs were not as strong, but he kept Malcolm in sight whenever Malcolm got far ahead. 

Malcolm skidded to a halt when he saw several police cars blocking their path. There was fire a few blocks ahead. Jamie ran into Malcolm and they all but fell. Jamie’s ears still rang, but he could hear other noises. 

“It’s all on fucking fire,” Malcolm said. He could not see where the fire ended, but it started near the shop where his niece worked. Malcolm felt his heart rate increase. He felt sweat trickle down his neck. Malcolm ran his tongue along the edge of his teeth. He suspected his house was on fire. The pockets between fires in London were larger than the pockets were in Glasgow when its fires started.

Ambulances approached the barrier coming from the direction of the fire and then sped past towards other parts of London that were not burning. 

“She’s on one of them,” Jamie said quietly, trying to compensate for the ringing in his ears. He knew Malcolm was stressed to the point of a hypoglycaemia attack. He did not have to see the shaking in Malcolm’s hands to know. 

Malcolm’s jaw tightened. He felt dizzy and his knees felt weak. He took a deep breath. “Maybe,” he said. 

Jamie gripped Malcolm’s wrist tightly. He could feel Malcolm’s hands trembling. He could feel Malcolm’s knees buckle periodically. “We have to get the fuck out of here,” Jamie said. He reached into Malcolm’s jacket pocket. “Hold out your hand.” 

Malcolm sighed and did so. “This is the last thing we fucking need,” he said more to himself than Jamie. 

Jamie portioned out a serving of sweets. Malcolm put them in his mouth. Jamie sealed the package and put it back where it belonged. “When we get somewhere less fucked, you should test.”

“I know,” Malcolm said. He looked around. The streets were crowded with vehicles and people. He took a deep breath. All they could do was head away from any signs of fire, head towards the water. “I have a car in a garage nearby,” Malcolm said. “We should wait.” The streets were too crowded and he was uncertain if the garage was unscathed. Malcolm pulled his wrist from Jamie’s grasp and took Jamie’s arm. He still felt dizzy, though the sensation was ebbing away. “This way.” He started leading them towards the river. 

Jamie heard most of what Malcolm said. He kept close and alert. As they moved deeper into London, the crowds began to thin. Jamie started to lead and his hearing became clearer, though the ring was still present. When the next aftershock passed, he ran his fingers along Malcolm’s arm. “You need food.” 

They made their way to a hospital. The building was crowded with people in varying states of injury or illness. Food services still functioned, though there was no room to sit. They found a place to stand and ate quietly. The room was full of the white noise of people talking quietly to each other. When they finished their food, Malcolm went to the reception desk. Jamie kept to his shadow. 

“I’m looking for my niece,” Malcolm said. “She was at work.” He named the shop and the location. 

The receptionist looked through the records. “I honestly can’t tell you based on where she was,” the receptionist said. She checked for the niece’s name. “We don’t have any patients under that name here or anyone in the records that would match her either.”

Before Malcolm could say anything more, another aftershock rumbled through London and surrounding areas. There was another boom in the distance. 

“We’re going to get more casualties,” the receptionist said. “If you want to find your niece, you might have to wait until everything calms down.”

Malcolm frowned, but he left and headed out the front doors of the hospital to assess where the new fire would be. He looked at Jamie. “We need to go somewhere safe.”

“Where?” Jamie asked. “Everything is either on fire or making people vanish like some sort of disappearing cunt trick.”

Malcolm started back towards the office. “If things are still standing, we should take what food we can and go underground. Avoid the fire for as long as we can.”

“Underground?” Jamie kept up with Malcolm. “With the fucking bombs?”

“Maybe,” Malcolm said, “but I doubt it.” He took Jamie’s arm so they would not get separated. The crowds were thinner and traffic crawled slowly out of the city. Malcolm lowered his voice, “There’s a network of tunnels under the city. They were built in the last few decades.” 

Jamie frowned. There was still ringing in his ears but he heard most of what Malcolm said. “To withstand earthquakes?”

“I don’t know,” Malcolm said. “It might be a rumour.” He doubted it. As they walked towards the office, the crowd grew thinner until there were only fire crews in the distance. 

Jamie sighed. He rubbed his forehead with his free hand. He felt tired and he had a persistent headache. He needed a fag. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled one out of its carton, and then retrieved his lighter. He lit the fag and put his lighter away. As he took more nicotine into his system, the headache began to ease and his brain felt more alert. 

The office was still standing. It looked closed. The security system was offline along with the electricity. Malcolm let go of Jamie and worked at the lock until it opened. Jamie blinked. “I didn’t know you knew how to do that,” he said. He snuffed his fag out and followed Malcolm inside. 

“I have a lot of hidden talents,” Malcolm said. They walked across the ground floor towards the office of the most senior MP. “The door we want should be under the desk.” He picked locks as they worked their way to the office in question. Jamie provided light with his mobile. There was a small fridge in the corner of the office. They split the contents between each other. There were mostly drinks, but also sandwiches. Malcolm walked over to a file cabinet and counted four drawers down. The drawer was filled with crisps and other salty snacks. Malcolm made a mental inventory of everything they took. Jamie could see Malcolm’s lips moving as he memorized the brands and sizes of things. It would be easier to replace it later than leave money to cover the cost for whoever might get to the office first. 

Malcolm took one end of the desk and Jamie took the other. There were papers, files, and other paraphernalia strewn about from the earthquake and aftershocks. They pushed the desk across the floor as far as they could. Malcolm stomped around and there was a change in the sound the floor made. He looked at Jamie. “It fucking exists,” he said.

Jamie lit the carpet on fire. They let it burn for a moment and then both began to stomp the flame out before it could spread too far. After a while, Malcolm knelt down and found a hole to tug at until the carpet peeled back and tore away. The door had a combination lock on it. Jamie looked at Malcolm.

“I don’t know what the combination is,” Malcolm said. 

“You picked the locks,” Jamie said. 

“That doesn’t mean I know how to crack a fucking secret tunnel,” Malcolm said. 

They lapsed into silence. Malcolm touched the metal carefully. It was not too hot, though it was still warm. He held out his hand and Jamie gave him his mobile. Malcolm shone the mobile close to the combination lock. He put his reading glasses on and squinted. “I can see the pins.” He looked at Jamie.

Jamie took the mobile and held it in place. Malcolm worked at the combination lock until it unlocked and swung downwards, flattening against the side of the tunnel. There was a ladder. Jamie shone his mobile down the ladder. They could barely see the bottom. 

“I’ll go first,” Malcolm said. He started down the ladder and Jamie followed. The ladder was long and they had to rest half way down it before reaching the bottom. The only light was from Jamie’s mobile. Malcolm kept his own switched off to conserve batteries. 

When they got to the bottom of the ladder, the trap door overhead made a long banging noise. Jamie shone his mobile upwards. “We’re fucked,” he said. 

“We’ll want a different exit,” Malcolm said. 

Jamie wondered if there was another exit. He was not sure how these tunnels might work or what their function could be. There was lighting along the ceiling, but not means to turn it on. The tunnel was very long and lined with doors. At the end of the hallway was a large, strudy door with a combination lock. 

“They planned for a power outage,” Malcolm said. He took Jamie’s hand and guided it so Jamie’s mobile could illuminate the lock. Malcolm worked carefully and eventually the door opened to a hallway, again with doors on both sides. There was another combination locked door at the end of the hallway. 

“What the fuck…?” Jamie breathed. It looked like a prison without bars, or perhaps like some kind of cult compound. Everything was reinforced, but the doors on the walls were not as thick as the combination locked door at the end of the hallway. Jamie checked his watch. “It’s half past seven,” he said. It felt later. His legs ached. He could feel a twinge of a nicotine headache lurking. “What is this supposed to be for anyway?”

“All I ever heard was there were tunnels under London. Government access only,” Malcolm said. He approached the door at the end of the hall. When Jamie shown the light just right, Malcolm began discerning the pins in the lock. The next several halls were the same. Malcolm stifled a yawn and swung back another combination locked door. 

They entered a proper room. There was the hum of machines and the sounds of muffled, rhythmic breathing. There was minimal lighting, so Jamie turned off his mobile to conserve battery. Jamie almost walked into Malcolm. Malcolm grabbed his arm. “Wha –”

Malcolm’s grip tightened and Jamie instinctively quieted. Jamie looked around and tensed. All around them hanging up on hooks built into the wall were creatures. Each of them were varying colours of grey. Their heads were bowed, their eyelids drooping too much to close completely. There was a glass encasement around each creature that fastened into the wall and needed a code to release. It appeared to be providing the creatures with an incentive to stay sleeping. 

“Fuck,” Jamie breathed, “just…fuck.” His heart rate increased and his breathing as well. He could not take his eyes from the creature he had to beat off the prime minister. Jamie’s knees buckled and he pitched forward. Malcolm wrapped an arm around Jamie’s chest to keep him from falling. Jamie gasped for air. 

“Fuck. Breathe. Close your eyes and breathe,” Malcolm said. He kept hold of Jamie. His eyes moved around the room. “Sit,” Malcolm said and helped Jamie to the floor. “Keep your eyes closed.” His fingers brushed through Jamie’s curls and then Malcolm went across the room a set of combination locked doors. He could not see the pins. He positioned his mobile accordingly and he could not find anything to align. Malcolm rested his forehead against the cold door and took a deep breath. He looked at the first creature that appeared. That creature escaped this room and returned to it alive. Malcolm’s eyes moved upwards. There were no more doors. Malcolm took his reading glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He looked at the doors again. “It’s a biorhythmic code.”

“What?” Jamie asked. He still sat on the floor. He could feel the dizziness easing away. He had not opened his eyes. 

“These fucking doors don’t open unless they recognize you,” Malcolm said. 

Jamie got up slowly. He avoided looking at the creatures. He walked over to Malcolm. He put his hand on a flat black pad at the side of the centre door. The pad scanned his hand and whirred, processing the information. Then it turned red. 

“Unidentifiable. Place a hand on the scanner,” the security box said. 

“Fuck you,” Jamie murmured. His head ached. He wanted a fag or five. 

Malcolm sighed. He put his hand on the scanner and it whirred. 

“Welcome Malcolm Tucker,” the security box said. The door unlocked and opened into the next room. 

Malcolm looked at Jamie. They crossed the threshold and the door shut behind them. The next room was full of monitors and other computerized systems to ensure that the creatures were alive and stable. Malcolm’s eyes cast about the room. “I didn’t sign up for fucking _Battle Quest Trek_.” 

Jamie did not hear what Malcolm said. He heard flat tones that grew gradually louder in both ears. As soon as he noticed the tones, they began to subside. Malcolm was still talking. 

“…if the prime minister knew,” Malcolm said, referencing the one before Tom. He ran his tongue along the edge of his teeth. His eyes looked at the images on the computer screens. The computers were far more advanced than the latest office models they worked with daily. They showed the creatures in the room and the doorways leading to the creature room. 

Jamie looked at the monitors. “I think he does,” Jamie said. 

“Did,” Malcolm corrected absently. 

“Does,” Jamie repeated. He tugged on Malcolm’s hand and let go when Malcolm followed his gaze. “Didn’t people claim he had a tattoo under his ribs of a demonic buoy?”

“It’s not a rumour,” Malcolm said. He looked closely at the creature and trapped his tongue between his teeth. He could read the warped and stretched words “Unsinkable Fucker” curled around the top and bottom of the demonic buoy on the creature’s torso. What was left of the creature’s face sagged. Its skin was grey-tinted like the rest. Malcolm’s mouth moved and then closed. He took a deep breath. 

“When did you see him shirtless?” Jamie asked. 

“Now’s not the fucking time,” Malcolm said. “It’s not the fucking time for any of this.” He turned away from the monitors. “We need to get above ground.” 

Jamie rubbed his face. His headache was getting worse. “Then let’s fuck off already.”

Malcolm sighed. There were three doors in this room, each at different ends of the room. They all had biorhythmic locks. If they went back the way they arrived, it would take hours to return to the ladder. 

“Where do you think we are?” Jamie asked. 

Malcolm looked at his watch. “It’s been five or six hours…” he grew quiet, considering the distance and average walking speed. “Somewhere near the M25.” 

Jamie sat on one of the chairs in the room. He put his feet up on another. Everything hurt. He could feel and hear his lower spine crack when he sat. “Why would there be an exit near the M25?” 

“The exit might be Potters Bar,” Malcolm said. “Those fuckers were sighted there.” 

Jamie propped his arm on the back of the chair he sat in and rested his forehead against his hand. “What if it’s on fire?”

“Then it’s on fucking fire,” Malcolm said. He remained standing. He opened one of the packets of crisps he carried. He walked over to Jamie and they took turns taking equal numbers of crisps. Malcolm lowered his voice and spoke in his calm tone. “We’re going to find a way back to surface. We can’t sleep here.”

“I know,” Jamie said. He ate slowly. Rationing and sharing food was a default behaviour learned from having a large family. “Are you sure we went north?”

“Yes,” Malcolm said. 

There was an echoing thump from the creature room. Three more thumps followed along with the sound of flesh dropping to the floor. Malcolm rolled the crisps bag up and stuffed it between his belt and waist where he kept empty bags. “Fuck,” he said. ‘Fuck.”

Jamie slid off the chairs and rolled onto all fours. He stood up. They could hear the sound of wide, long bare feet slapping across the floor towards the door. 

Malcolm grabbed Jamie’s hand and pulled Jamie along. He rushed over to the door to their right. He pressed his free hand to the scanner. It whirred and welcomed Malcolm inside. This time they were in a hallway. Malcolm ran and kept hold of Jamie’s hand. The door shut behind them. Neither spoke. Jamie huffed. Each step was painful, each time he breathed he felt nauseated, but adrenaline kept him from falling on his face. He regretted taking the time to sit.

When they reached the end of the hall, Malcolm let go of Jamie. They were back to combination locks. Jamie found his mobile and turned it on; positioning it so Malcolm could see the pins. They heard banging on the door at the opposite end of the hall. The creatures did not seem to know how to open it. 

Malcolm wiped the sweat from his forehead as he worked. He opened the door and shoved Jamie into the next hallway. Just as they heard the door close behind them, they heard the creatures open the door at the other end of the hall. Malcolm grabbed Jamie’s hand and helped Jamie along to the end of the hall. The combination locks kept the creatures from catching up to them. After the third door, Malcolm and Jamie could no longer run. They could hear the creatures howl down the hallways. They could hear the creatures banging on the doors. Malcolm and Jamie were too tired to think of how the creatures advanced. It was hours before Malcolm and Jamie came to a ladder. 

Jamie bent over and rested his hands on his knees before vomiting. It was frothy and white, and the third time he vomited since they began running from the creatures. 

“You’re going to go up the ladder first,” Malcolm said. If you feel like you’re going to fall, stop and rest. They’re a long way behind us.”

Jamie was not sure what Malcolm said. The loud, long tones sounded in his ears again. He looked at Malcolm and nodded. He figured Malcolm wanted Jamie to climb up first. It was a way to ensure both of them managed to make it topside. Jamie started up. It was a long, long ladder like the one they entered the tunnels with. He was almost to the top when the door to the hallway opened. The creatures poured into the hall and ran towards them. 

“Move. Fucking move,” Malcolm said.

Jamie needed no prompting. Fear propelled him up the last of the rungs. The door above them was heavy. Jamie touched it, trying to find how to open it. 

“Faster!” Malcolm said. 

“I’m fucking going fast,” Jamie mumbled. He smacked a palm against the door all over, trying to find some kind of detection device. Nothing whirred and nothing turned red. Jamie ran his fingers along the lip of the door. “Found it!” he shouted. 

The ladder rattled with the force of the creatures climbing up the base. 

Jamie tried to pry the door open. He had to push up on the handle and then pull down. He felt dizzy and tried to ignore the throbbing in his head. 

Malcolm looked down. The height was dizzying. Malcolm felt nauseated. His hands were slick from sweat and it was hard to keep grip of the ladder. The creatures were fast approaching. “Open it!” he shouted. 

“Fuck off!” Jamie shouted back. Malcolm shouting made his head hurt more. He had managed to push the handle upwards. Pulling the door down was more difficult. He felt like he could fall at any moment.

Malcolm wrapped his arms around the ladder rung. He prepared to kick the creatures in the face. 

Jamie opened the door and climbed upward. He knelt on the ground and looked down at Malcolm. Malcolm followed as quickly as he could, trying to grab the door to close it behind. Jamie grabbed onto Malcolm’s jacket and tried to help pull Malcolm up just as Malcolm shouted in pain. Malcolm rolled out of the tunnel. Jamie helped close the door. The creatures howled and banged on the door. 

Malcolm grabbed Jamie’s arm and got to his feet, pulling Jamie up with him. The building looked like some kind of council office. They headed towards the outside. “We need transport,” he said. “Some fucking car.” 

“You need to fucking eat,” Jamie said. “I need a fucking fag.” He grabbed Malcolm’s hand so they would stay together. They made their way towards cars parked nearby. The windows had blown out from a nearby explosion, though the fire in a nearby area was long-since sorted. 

Jamie got behind the wheel. They would not have much time if the creatures continued their pursuit. “I don’t know how to fucking wire this.”

Malcolm rubbed his face. His jaw tightened in pain. The flesh part of the sole of his left food along with the top of his foot above it stung. “Just…fucking wire it.”

“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing,” Jamie said. He found the wires. 

Malcolm took a deep breath. In a quiet, firm, dangerous voice, he explained the process. Jamie followed the instructions. They could hear one of the creatures howl nearby. “Fuck,” Malcolm hissed. 

When the engine started, Jamie put the car in gear and drove as fast as he could manage. “Eat something. For fuck’s sake.”

Malcolm looked at his test meter. “Have a fucking fag,” Malcolm growled. As suspected, his blood sugar was very, very low. “If I pass out, keep driving.” 

Jamie frowned. He focussed on navigating the streets as fast as possible. There were no cars or signs of people. They passed through fire-ravaged areas. Jamie headed south. He could see the creatures when he checked his mirrors. They could not keep up with the car at top speed. He tried to be unpredictable and shake the creatures before leaving the town. He was not sure what town they were in, but he knew it was outside London. 

Malcolm ate quietly. He kept watching the creatures. Sometimes the creatures would disappear and then they would reappear. Once they left the town and sped up the A1. When they had not seen the creatures in almost thirty minutes, Jamie slowed and pulled a fag out of his pocket. He opened the window and lit the fag. Jamie’s stomach rumbled. He kept driving. In under an hour, they met a roadblock. Jamie slowed. He was on his third fag. Their IDs got them access to the rest of the A1.

There were no vacancies anywhere. Jamie found a place off the A1 where they could park off the road and remain undisturbed. Malcolm murmured something about one of them keeping watch, but they were both too exhausted. The sun was already peeking over the horizon. 

When Jamie woke up, his head rested against Malcolm’s shoulder. He could tell by Malcolm’s breathing that Malcolm was awake. Jamie sat up and stretched. He got out of the car to move his legs and take care of his body’s needs. Jamie counted the fags in his pack. He only had three left. When he got back to the car, he took off his jacket and used it to sweep the glass off his car seat. 

Malcolm was sitting on the bonnet of the car. He rubbed his face and then looked at Jamie. Jamie sat down beside him on the bonnet. Malcolm handed Jamie the half-eaten crisp package. Jamie took a crisp from it. Malcolm set the bag on Jamie’s lap. 

“I’m not eating all of these by myself,” Jamie said. His stomach rumbled. 

“I already ate while you slept,” Malcolm said. His jaw tightened. His foot still stung. There were tears in his shoe and dried blood everywhere. He kept his foot over the side of the car where Jamie could not see it. 

Jamie frowned. “What did they do?” He remembered the shout of pain from the night before. At the time, there had been too much happening to acknowledge it. 

“Nothing. Just a scratch,” Malcolm said. He slid off the bonnet. “I’m going to go back to London.” 

“We walked for hours in those fucking halls to get the fuck out of London. We got chased by those…” Jamie could not think of a good word for the creatures, “cunts, and you want to fuck on off back there to do what?”

“To shut it down,” Malcolm said. “Those computers were monitoring those fuckers. Those two rooms were the only places with electricity. If we can disrupt the power, it might kill those things.” 

“That’s a theory,” Jamie said. He rubbed his temples. He needed a fag, but he had three left. He did not know when he would get more fags. He was trying to save it for night time so he would not have to go sleep with a headache later. 

“Do you have a better idea?” Malcolm asked. 

“There’s probably shite under every city,” Jamie said. “Things we can’t even fucking imagine. Are you going to shut it all down?”

Malcolm ran his fingers down his face in thought. “Reclaim London, reclaim information; reclaim power. We figure out what the fuck is going on. Figure out how this works. Then fix the rest.” 

Jamie frowned. He ate his crisps slowly. He looked at the trees around them. No cars passed on the road. Everything was quiet. “Who else can do it?” he asked to more himself than Malcolm. “I’ll go with you,” Jamie said to Malcolm. London was probably one of the safer places, the creatures aside. At least most of the incendiaries exploded during the earthquake. 

London was still burning. The fires were under control and much of the city was ruined. Malcolm’s house was gone. Jamie’s house still stood. They left the car a few blocks away and walked to Jamie’s house. They needed to form a plan. The power and mobile networks were down. Radio networks were off the air. The state of London beyond what they could see and the state of the rest of the kingdom was unknown beyond what they knew before they went into the underground. 

There was no running water. The food in the refrigerator and freezer was still cold enough that it had not spoiled. They talked in the garden while Jamie smoked, now reunited with the cartons in his cupboard. He tried to ration himself, but the temptation to chain smoke was strong. They found a cookie sheet and lined it with foil, setting down some wood from around the garden on top of it to light on fire in the garden. They roasted sausages and ate what would spoil if left in the fridge without electricity for too long. 

After they finished the sausages and the fire was embers, the sky was dark. Stars that neither had seen over London before were visible. The only light on the horizon was what remained of the fires across the city. They sorted through the logistics of the situation. Finally, Jamie rubbed his face. “I can’t fucking talk about this anymore,” he said. “I can’t.” 

The fire was almost dead again. Malcolm sighed. “Then go inside, get some sleep. In the morning, I’ll go see what I can find.”

“I didn’t mean forever, just for the rest of the night,” Jamie said. He stifled a yawn. His legs still ached from yesterday. It seemed like the longer he was removed from the adrenaline that propelled him underground, the more his body ached. He wanted a shower and to sleep for days. He rubbed the back of his neck. 

“It’s going to take days to do this,” Malcolm said, “probably weeks. That’s only London.” 

“We need people,” Jamie said, but he knew that they could not find help if they did not know who pulled the strings. 

They lapsed back into silence. When the fire died back down again to the point it was almost done, Jamie stood up. “I’m going inside.” 

Jamie made a small detour to throw away his snuffed fags and then headed up to his bedroom. He brushed his teeth since it was one of the few things he could clean about himself without water. Jamie removed his clothes slowly. His eyes moved about, but he saw no signs of creatures or any immediate threats. Work easily worked him up and his home was designed to calm him down. He scratched the stubble at his chin and scratched his scalp. He needed a shower, but he had few options. He wondered if people might start bathing in the Thames. It sounded cold and unpleasant, but the dried sweat across his body made it seem appealing at the same time. Jamie flopped down face-first into bed. His fingers curled into tight fists. The darkness reminded him of the underground. He shivered when he remembered the creatures swarming up the ladder. 

“Under the covers is warmer,” Malcolm said quietly. He rested a finger against the waistband of Jamie’s pants and slid it along Jamie’s spine. He scratched between Jamie’s shoulder blades. Jamie’s shoulders flexed in response and a small noise of approval reverberated in the back of his throat. Malcolm flattened his hand and slid it up to Jamie’s shoulder. 

“Can’t fucking move,” Jamie murmured. 

Malcolm removed his shoes and got up on the bed so his knees were on either side of Jamie’s hips. He slid his hands across Jamie’s back, following the points of tension. 

Jamie could feel the callouses on Malcolm’s fingers. He could feel the roughness of Malcolm’s palms. Jamie buried his face deeper into his pillow and let out an involuntary, muffled moan. 

Malcolm squeezed the muscles between Jamie’s neck and shoulder joint. He rubbed deep circles into their flesh. His fingers worked downwards and continued to press circles into Jamie’s back. When he reached the base of Jamie’s spine, Malcolm pressed his thumb on either side of Jamie’s spine. He caressed the skin and worked his way back up Jamie’s back, his thumbs pressing along Jamie’s spine. Malcolm leaned down and kissed the back of Jamie’s neck, letting his lips linger. Then he sat on the other side of the mattress and removed his belt so he could sleep comfortably. 

Jamie lay immobile for a moment. He slowly rose up on his knees, listening to them crack in protest. He ran a hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes and looked at Malcolm. Jamie sat back and ran his fingers along Malcolm’s foot so his thumb travelled up the centre of Malcolm’s sole. 

Malcolm shifted his weight. His eyes followed Jamie’s fingers. 

Jamie could feel the tension in Malcolm’s foot. The arch strained. Quietly, Jamie began to rub small circles into Malcolm’s foot, careful not to make his touches too light. He watched Malcolm’s face and varied his touches. Jamie let go after a while. “I need the other foot.”

Malcolm’s right leg hung off the bed. Jamie could not see past the knee. “You should sleep,” Malcolm said. 

Jamie frowned. “Don’t change the subject.” He rose up on his knees and leaned forward. “It’s not a fucking scratch, is it?”

Malcolm eyed Jamie. He sighed and set his right foot up on the bed. The wounds were jagged and scabbed. There was still dried blood on Malcolm’s foot, though he had attempted to clean things up without water. The skin around the marks was a faint pink. Jamie moved closer and inspected the wounds. 

“It fucking bit you,” Jamie said. The bite mark looked like something out of an alien monster movie. 

Malcolm frowned. “It’s fine.” 

“We don’t know how those things are created,” Jamie said. “We don’t know how it fucking spreads.” 

“It could be airborne for all we fucking know,” Malcolm said. “You could be as contaminated as I might be.” He unbuttoned his shirt, but kept it on for warmth. 

Jamie frowned. His nose wrinkled. “I don’t want to be one of those fuckers,” he murmured. Jamie lowered his head. “I don’t want to grow gigantic fucking arms and my skin to get all fucked. I don’t want to chase people and rip their fucking faces off.” He knew he had threatened to do so many, many times, but while he felt that angry frequently, he would rather rip a fax machine apart. 

Malcolm moved so he could run his fingers through Jamie’s hair. Jamie leaned into the touch. Jamie closed his eyes when Malcolm mouthed at his neck. Jamie tilted his head to the side and his hand reached out blindly, curving around Malcolm’s side under Malcolm’s shirt when Jamie felt skin. Jamie’s nails scratched Malcolm’s side where Jamie’s own body itched. Jamie felt Malcolm growl against his neck. 

“Whatever you do to me, I will do to you,” Jamie said. “Slap my arse, I’ll slap yours. Slide your fingers up my cock, tease the tip and I will run my fingers up yours.” His breathe caught in his throat when Malcolm sucked at his neck. “I’ll strip your shirt off,” Jamie groaned. It was the most sensitive spot on his neck. “Fling your trousers to the floor. And then I’ll fuck you,” he swallowed when Malcolm removed his mouth from Jamie’s neck to let the spot breathe before biting it, “fuck you as you see fit.” He moaned and closed his eyes again. His body was sensitive from the rub down and his mind yearned for any kind of all-encompassing distraction. 

“You would want that,” Malcolm said, his voice low in Jamie’s ear. He moved closer, his nails scraping up Jamie’s stomach to his chest. Malcolm rubbed one of Jamie’s nipples, toying with it in his fingers. He tilted his head to the side when Jamie mouthed at Malcolm’s neck, both of them adjusting their body positions to accommodate the game. “You would want me to fuck you. Knock you to the floor. Tie your wrists to the bed.” Malcolm moaned when Jamie sucked at his neck. His hands moved down, squeezing Jamie’s waist. “Rub your thighs, rub your hips,” Malcolm removed his hands when Jamie stripped the shirt from him. His trousers soon followed. Malcolm tugged on the waistband of Jamie’s pants and let go, listening to it snap against the skin. 

Jamie bit Malcolm’s neck. Malcolm growled involuntarily. Malcolm’s hands returned to Jamie’s waist. He pulled Jamie’s pants down and cast them aside before his hands returned to Jamie’s waist. “Rub your hips,” Malcolm resumed. His fingers moved down to Jamie’s hips. He squeezed and began to knead them as best he could from their current position. 

Jamie squirmed. He pushed Malcolm back against the bed. He smirked down at him and ran his nails up Malcolm’s stomach to his chest. The game was still active. 

Malcolm snorted and his hands returned to Jamie’s hips where the new angle allowed his fingers to knead them. 

Jamie shivered from pleasure and the cool temperature in the house. It was not too cold but it was not the temperature it might be if the heating functioned. “Don’t get quiet,” Jamie said. “Keep talking.” 

Malcolm ghosted his fingers down Jamie’s thighs. He shivered when Jamie began to rub his nipple. “I’d work my way to your arse,” Malcolm continued. “My hands would rub your arse and my mouth would bite your neck and let my tongue slide along the curve of your shoulder blade.” Malcolm’s hands moved to Jamie’s ass. He squeezed Jamie’s cheeks firmly. 

Jamie groaned and moved into the groping. He squeezed Malcolm’s waist. His hands moved to Malcolm’s hips. He snapped the waistband of Malcolm’s pants and then stripped them off, tossing them aside. 

Malcolm rolled them over and ghosted his fingers up Jamie’s shaft once. Jamie shivered and then rolled them onto their sides. Jamie leaned over Malcolm and retrieved lubricant from the drawer in the bedside table. They were both too sore to get too wild, but Jamie had an idea. Jamie set the bottle where he could easily reach it and returned to his position lying on his side. Jamie’s hand rested on top of Malcolm’s hip and rubbed it gently. 

“Enough games,” Jamie murmured. His hand slid downward and he moved closer. He was too tired for games. Jamie squirted lubricant onto his hand and gently tossed the bottle behind him so it remained on the bed in case they needed more later. He walked his fingers up the underside of Malcolm’s shaft. His thumb rubbed against the tip. He watched Malcolm shiver. Jamie slid the lubricant along Malcolm’s shaft and then he rubbed the remaining lubricant on his own. Jamie moved even closer and kissed Malcolm. His erection brushed against Malcolm’s erection. Jamie carefully took both of them into his hand and let their shafts slide up against one another. Malcolm kissed back, parting his lips and urging Jamie’s lips to part with his tongue. Jamie sucked on Malcolm’s tongue. Jamie kept stimulating them simultaneously, rubbing their shafts together with his slicked hand. 

Malcolm moved up into Jamie’s hand. He bit Jamie’s lip and sucked it into his mouth. His free hand rubbed a spot just under Jamie’s ribs that was extra sensitive. He felt Jamie thrust against his erection. Their moans and growls increased. 

Jamie moved so then his hand only grasped Malcolm. His fingers slid down and rubbed Malcolm’s testicles before rubbing the base of Malcolm’s shaft. His hand began to urge Malcolm, varying the firmness and type of touches. 

Malcolm maneuverer his hand, trying not to get in the way of Jamie’s work. He frowned. “Get on your fucking back,” Malcolm groaned. 

Jamie’s hand slipped away. He rolled onto his back. Malcolm sat up with a grunt and found the lube. He squirted just a tiny amount onto his hand to aid things since Jamie was already slick. He lay down on his back beside Jamie and squirmed involuntarily. “Do what you were doing,” Malcolm said. 

Jamie reached over and slid his fingers up along Malcolm’s shaft. He toyed with the angles and how their bodies existed on the bed in relation to one another until it was comfortable. He moaned when Malcolm’s fingers did the same. It took some doing, but they found the best possible position. Jamie squirmed and closed his eyes. Jamie came first. He always came first. When he was spent, he straddled Malcolm’s legs and used both hands to finish Malcolm off. Once they were both satiated, Jamie grabbed tissues from the bedside table and cleaned them off before stretching out beside Malcolm on his back. 

They said nothing and caught their breaths. The room smelled of sweat and sex. Jamie did not remember falling asleep.

**To be continued…**


	3. Three, in which the Ice Man appears and things reach their end.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three, in which the Ice Man appears and things reach their end.

**_It’s Not the Apocalypse, but Close Enough_  
III.**

Malcolm woke the next morning under the covers with Jamie. They were still naked. One of his hands rested on Jamie’s stomach and his other hand was tucked just under his pillow. Jamie’s body was warm against Malcolm’s, though the smell between the two of them was pungent. Malcolm slid his hand up Jamie’s stomach. When Jamie stirred, Malcolm asked quietly, “Are you going with me?”

Jamie stretched and yawned into his pillow. “I can’t move,” he murmured. “…fucking geriatric…” 

Malcolm snorted. He moved away from Jamie and got out of bed, making sure the blankets closed up any gaps that might let cold air into the bed. Jamie instinctively pulled the covers closer in response. Malcolm sighed. “I’m borrowing clothes,” he said. Jamie murmured something in response. 

The trousers would never be the right length nor the right width. Malcolm found a belt that helped. He found Jamie’s largest jumper and put it on over one of Jamie’s vests. It would not be enough in the cold, but it would suffice. Malcolm walked back over to the bed. He ran his fingers through Jamie’s hair. “I don’t know what’s going to happen or if we’re going to fuck it up,” he said quietly, not trying to wake Jamie. “I will see you again,” he said. His fingers slipped away from Jamie’s hair and Malcolm left. He took things from the refrigerator that would spoil if left and were easy to eat on the go. Then he was gone.

When Jamie woke, the sky was lighter. He wrinkled his nose and rolled into the colder part of the bed. He blinked. He felt eyes on him, but he was certain that Malcolm left earlier when Jamie could barely think let alone wake up and get out of bed. Jamie’s stomach rumbled. He sat up and rubbed his face and froze. He could smell coffee and ham. Jamie looked around. His room was a good temperature for winter. He heard the pipes groan like someone used the faucet in the kitchen. He grunted and went to take a shower while he still had a chance. If someone was squatting in his home and got the electricity back on, he was going to have his shower before dealing with anything else. 

Jamie put on jeans, a vest, and an old jumper that he got back when he was still in university. He headed downstairs and stopped. There was a well-dressed man sitting at his table with a plate of breakfast waiting at Jamie’s place. The food was still warm and the coffee still hot and aromatic. 

“What you smelled before your shower was strategic perfumes,” the man said. “This breakfast has been out only minutes.” He folded up the newspaper in his hands and looked at Jamie. 

“Who are you?” Jamie asked. He went to the cupboard for cereal. He was not sure he could trust the stranger’s breakfast. 

“You know who I am,” the man said. “You have seen me many times before.”

Jamie paused and studied the man. He imagined him at a heavier weight and then it clicked. “You’re that guy Malcolm pretends doesn’t exist.” He had seen Malcolm speaking with the man on very rare occasion over the years. 

“I believe you call me ‘Ice Man,’” he said, “which should continue to suffice.” 

“Did something happen to Malcolm?” Jamie asked. He wondered if that bite turned Malcolm into one of those creatures. Malcolm had bit Jamie last night. Jamie wondered if he too might become one of those creatures. 

“No, nothing has happened,” Ice Man said. “I want to recruit you, so we can prevent something from happening, not just to Malcolm, but to the rest of the country and kingdom.”

Jamie got a bowl and a spoon. He skipped the milk and poured the cereal into the bowl. “Like what?” He sat at the table. He eyed the breakfast laid out. The slices of ham were heated up in the oven so it was crisp around the edges and the eggs were firmly scrambled and not from a liquid egg container. It was his favourite. It was tempting, though he still was uncertain if it was safe. 

Ice Man did not seem surprised or bothered that Jamie was eating cereal before the breakfast laid out at his place. “What I’m going to tell you is top level security,” Ice Man said. He produced a tablet from an interior pocket. “I need your thumbprint on this confidentiality agreement and your signature before proceeding.” He had a stylus in his other hand. 

Jamie set his cereal aside and read over the document. It seemed very standard, very governmental. He signed the tablet and pressed his thumb to the screen. The machine whirred and collected his print. He gave the tablet back to Ice Man. 

Ice Man checked the signature and thumbprint. He nodded to himself and put the tablet and stylus away. “Years ago, a fringe group of the government decided to put plans in motion to take control of the kingdom. As we set up an underground system that stretches England, Scotland, and Wales, they set up incendiaries and other traps across those countries. This was a forty-year process and they only began to arm their bombs two years ago under the pretence of earthquake management.”

Jamie finish his cereal. He sniffed at the coffee. It was doctored exactly how he preferred it. There were no extra smells. He took a tentative sip. There were no extra tastes. 

“The release of the creatures was intentional,” Ice Man continued after a pause so his words could settle in Jamie’s mind. “Their release points were also strategic. Through video evidence and the work of our agents, we began to find the conspirators.”

“Are there any left?” Jamie asked. He tried some of the eggs. They were very good. 

“Perhaps,” Ice Man admitted, “but if there are, there are few. The problems we face now are dismantling the traps and tricks they put in place to manipulate the country. The incendiaries in London were not detonated by human means or creature means. If there are more earthquakes, many more people will be in danger.”

“What do you need me to do?” Jamie asked. He finished off his eggs and started on his ham. The ham was perfect, not too salty and not sweet. 

“We need you to go to Scotland and shut the power down to the underground system,” Ice Man said. “Some agents will walk you through the process, and then you will be left to your own devices. I cannot promise how long this will take, but once you are finished, we will ensure you will have employment wherever you wish as well as compensation for your service.”

Jamie nodded. “What about Malcolm?” he asked. 

“We need him to do similar tasks in London,” Ice Man said. “You will likely not see him again for some time.”

Jamie nodded. He finished his breakfast. “What do I pack?”

“Pack enough that you can carry easily. You will have access to lodging, but there might not be any in some locations. There will be transportation provided,” Ice Man said. 

Jamie nodded. He did not relish the idea of going back into the underground, but he did like having some control in what happened below his family. “Alright. I will do it. I’ll clean up this fucking mess.”

Malcolm found Ollie after much searching. The mobile networks were still down across the city. There was no power available or water except in select locations. Ice Man’s team provided Malcolm with clothes that fit him, shower, and food. 

“So you survived,” Ollie said. He stood in the doorway of a flat in a district that was not affected by the fires. He only just woke. He almost sounded disappointed. 

“Of course I fucking survived,” Malcolm said. “It’s time to start the next phase of your service,” he said. 

“Want me to do more than just fuck people for information?” Ollie asked. “Or are you going to make me fuck one of those things from the office?” He let Malcolm into the flat. It was not Ollie’s flat, but the occupants fled London during the fire and had yet to return. “Because I draw the line at skin falling off.”

“I want us to get this fuck up under control,” Malcolm said. His eyes swept the flat. It appeared as though only Ollie lived there and there was no signs of tampering or monitoring. “We need to shut the underground grids down, clear out the dead carcases, and make sure the rest of the bombs the cunts planted get disarmed.”

Ollie changed into some clothes in a small bag. He ran his fingers through his hair to tame h is curls. “Do you know how to disarm them?”

“There’s going to be a squad that goes through. We’re making sure they don’t fuck up,” Malcolm said. “We’re going to cut the power to the system.”

Ollie grabbed a packet of biscuits since they would be easy to eat while walking. He placed a few bottles of water in his bag as well. He followed Malcolm out of the building and towards the nearest governmental office that had access to the underground system. Malcolm and Ollie exited a small room into one of the large hallways Malcolm and Jamie were in in during the high point of the fire. What kept Malcolm from leading Jamie up one of the ladders in the small rooms was the fact they could not anticipate that something would not block the exit. When Malcolm and Ollie reached the combination locked door at the end of the hall, Malcolm checked his watch. “We should be oriented north.”

Ollie looked at his watch. “We are.”

Malcolm picked the east door. He placed his hand on the handle and turned. There was a delay, but the door unlocked and opened. He motioned for Ollie to follow him inside. The room was not large, but it housed an entire modern switchboard and there were security monitors keeping track of activity at the points of entry via ladders nearby. “The super soldier program was a fuck up from the beginning,” Malcolm said. “The stress of the virus fucks with all aspects of the bastard unfortunate enough to get injected.” He looked at the monitor that showed the creatures on their hooks asleep under their glass hoods. Malcolm took a deep breath. “The brain and body can’t fucking handle it.”

Ollie observed the creatures. “You sound reluctant,” he said. “Not that I want to kill people, mind, but would you want to be kept like that?” When the camera flashed to the creature that was once the prime minister, Ollie tilted his head. Without the facial flesh, they could see the creature’s eyes moving in REM sleep. 

Malcolm looked away from that monitor. He got out his reading glasses and double-checked the control panel. Malcolm did not answer the question. “We have to cut power to the system,” he said. “And then we seal the tunnels for a week. After that, there will be carcass removal. There should be about a few hundred dead by the end. It’s the only way to kill them.”

“How do we make sure we’re not down here when it’s sealed?” Ollie asked. 

“Coordination, communication,” Malcolm said. “They are not allowed to seal any exit we don’t mark. 

Ollie frowned. He watched Malcolm disarm the power to the creature room. 

“Twenty-nine more rooms to go,” Malcolm said. “You’ll do the next one and then we’ll split.” He took a map from his pocket. “You will take the blue exes. I will take the red. Other teams have green and orange. When you finish, burn this map.” 

Ollie folded up the map and put it in his pocket. They headed out another ladder. Malcolm sprayed it with a special paint. He gave Ollie a can of pain to use. 

Jamie worked steadily through his section of the Highlands. He was alone with the exception of a driver who took him from destination to destination. He had two jobs. He had to cut power to the creature rooms and also report back if there were any incendiaries connected to locations. They went to places that were logical. Inverness and Aberdeen were rigged to burn. They also went well away from cities. There was a creature room all the way up in Thurso and another near Stornoway. Jamie met with the teams that worked on the Lowlands and the other teams for the Highlands. They made certain that they had checked everything and marked all the entrances. Creature removal on the early locations would begin shortly. They lacked manpower due to the number of people involved in the fringe group that knew of the tunnels. 

In London, Malcolm was finished. He had marked almost all of his entrances and cut the power to all of the creature rooms. All he had to do was get out of the underground, close the trap door located in the Chase National Reserve, and spray the trap door with red paint. Then they would wait a week and clear out the bodies. He pushed the latch up and then pulled the door down. He paused to let his eyes adjust to the bright light in the reserve. 

“Does the sunlight burn your skin?” someone asked. 

Malcolm looked up. Three men stood around the door looking down at him. He knew two of them by code names and the third by his real name. Malcolm’s jaw tightened. He pushed himself upwards so he could exit the tunnel. Two of the men grabbed his arms firmly. The third man reached into Malcolm’s shirt pocket and pulled out the special spray paint. He tapped the edge of the bottom of the can against Malcolm’s cheek. 

“No more,” the man said. “We will finish your job. We’ll tell Ice Man that we found you at the bottom of the ladder dead.”

Malcolm tried to wrap his legs around the ladder rungs. He was not sure if his legs might break, but he was not going to let them fling him to the floor. Malcolm held the man’s gaze. “I am going to fuck you. When everything is settled and you can sleep through the night, I am going to fuck you up the arse with a cock shaped mace. I am going to lance your intestines and pull them out your arse and then saw them against your wife’s cunt until the last thing you hear is what her moans sound like when she’s not fucking faking it.” 

The man snorted. “Throw him and seal it,” he said. 

The two men holding Malcolm shoved him roughly downward. Malcolm bent his knees in response and smacked his chin hard against one of the ladder rungs. His hands reached out blindly and he clung to the ladder. He heard the door close and then he heard the sound of the sealing process. Malcolm rested his forehead against the cold metal rung. His jaw ached and his mind raced. It would be a week until someone found him if he remained at this exit. He had to get back towards the party office. That would be the first entrance reopened. Even then, that would be days. He was six hours from the office if he made sure to pick the correct turns. He would also have to pass through two creature rooms to get there. Malcolm took a deep breath. He touched his jaw gingerly and then climbed down the ladder.

Jamie was not part of body disposal. His job was done and he could return to London. He spent some time with his siblings and then made his way back home. London was rebuilding. The fires were all eradicated. Jamie set about finding Malcolm. Jamie succeeded in finding Malcolm’s niece in a hospital burn ward, but Malcolm remained elusive. 

Jamie was in his garden. Fag butts littered the stones at his feet. The city was slowly coming out of its shutdown. Electricity and water were available again. Gas lines were still inactive. He heard footsteps nearby and watched Ice Man appear from around the side of Jamie’s house. Jamie pulled the fag from his lips and exhaled.

“I do not mean to interrupt,” Ice Man said. 

“Of course you don’t,” Jamie murmured. “What is it?”

“It’s Malcolm,” Ice Man said. 

Jamie paused, fag near his lips. “What?” 

“Some of my men claim that they found him dead at the bottom of one of our ladders,” Ice Man said, “but when we opened the entrance, there was no sign of Malcolm and no bodies that were not creatures. I want you to retrieve him. I can’t expend any of my own men to do it.”

“They’d fucking kill him,” Jamie said. He remembered talking to the teams working in Scotland. They were all aware of each other and worked hard to keep from sealing someone inside the underground. They would not have left a body, not even a dead one. 

“Yes,” Ice Man said. “I would like to avoid that if possible.”

Jamie dropped his fag to the ground and put it out with his shoe. “I’ll need a paramedic. Someone who won’t fuck it up. We probably have to take Malcolm up a ladder unconscious.” 

“We can supply a paramedic and necessary equipment,” Ice Man said, “but you have until sunrise. I cannot promise what will occur when regular operations resume in the morning.” 

Jamie nodded. He gathered the fags into a napkin and wadded the napkin up. “Let me get better shoes.” 

Malcolm shivered. His body was cold and wet from sweat. His heart raced. His limbs and head felt heavy. His stomach growled loudly. He went into the tunnels with preparations for becoming trapped in the tunnels. He rationed his food, but it was gone. His blood sugar readings had been consistently low but not dangerously low since he was sealed in the tunnels. He did not know where he was any longer and his meter was missing. 

Jamie started at Chase Nature Reserve. The paramedic provided a special stretcher that could hook onto the ladder and slide down carefully. Once they were on the ground floor, Jamie sighed. “He’s try to go somewhere that’d open first,” he said. 

“North is that way,” the paramedic said, pointing to their left. 

Jamie frowned. There was a permeating smell of death. He oriented himself so north was in front of him. They need to go left, but left was the ladder. “Fuck,” he said. “Fucking fuck.” He sighed and put his facemask on to try and muffle the smell. The paramedic did the same. Jamie led the way and the paramedic pushed the stretcher along. They passed through hallway after hallway. When they got to the creature room, Jamie made an audible groan. The smell was rancid. Puddles of skin lay on the floor from where it had slid from their bodies along with puddles of gooey, congealed, black blood. Organs dangled from their corpses. 

Jamie forced his eyes to look away. He found a door that led north. This time when he put his hand on the security panel, it registered and opened the door. Jamie looked for signs of Malcolm. They walked for hours down another set of halls until they came to another creature room. 

Jamie thought about which direction to go. He turned left, opened the door, and continued. He knew Malcolm would head for the first door he marked. That door would be the first to open and had opened three days ago. Jamie checked his watch. “Fuck.” It was close to sunrise. He knew once the sun was completely in the sky, they would have no more time left. 

“We will have to go up when we find the next ladder,” the paramedic said. 

“You can fuck off then and leave the stretcher and supplies with me,” Jamie said. 

“You don’t know what’s going to happen after the sun rises,” the paramedic said. “They might flood everything with fire or something that will eat any living organism to sterilize this place.” 

Jamie’s hands twitched. He walked back to the paramedic, grabbed the paramedic by the shoulders, and shoved the paramedic into the wall. “Then I’ll take that fucking risk. If you can’t fucking handle it, then leave your shite and go run away. I’ll drag him up the fucking ladder by myself if I have to.” Jamie gave the paramedic shoulder a small extra shove and then he went back to leading. He could hear the stretcher following. The ladder was in sight. There were no bodies that Jamie could see. 

Jamie took a deep breath. Malcolm must have come this way. Jamie ran a hand through his hair. He looked around. “Where the fuck are you?” he asked as though Malcolm might hear him and respond. Jamie shone his torch around, looking for any indication. 

“Hey,” the paramedic said, “I found something.” The paramedic’s torch illuminated a test meter on the floor by one of the doors along the sides of the hall. 

Jamie knelt down and picked it up. The meter’s battery was dead. It was black and as discreet as such a device could be. “This is Malcolm’s,” he said. Jamie looked around and licked his lips. He looked at the door and opened it with the security lock. 

Malcolm lay face down on the floor. His eyes were closed and his head was just inches away from a large bundle of electrical wires. 

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” Jamie asked. 

There was no response. The paramedic entered the room and checked on Malcolm’s vitals. “What do you know about him?” the paramedic asked. “I was told he was diabetic.”

“Hypoglycaemic,” Jamie said. He rattled off what he knew. He watched the paramedic test Malcolm’s blood sugar before administering a shot. 

“He’ll stabilize and then wake,” the paramedic said. “Let’s get him up the ladder before then if we can. You go up first and open the door. I’ll push the stretcher up when I follow.”

They had to lift Malcolm and carry him out of the room before they could put him onto the stretcher. Jamie and the paramedic strapped Malcolm into the stretcher so he would not fall in transit. Jamie ran his fingers briefly through Malcolm’s hair when the paramedic double-checked that the fastenings were secure. 

Jamie got onto the ladder and kept and eyes down, watching the paramedic secure the stretcher onto the ladder. He checked periodically to make sure that the stretcher and paramedic followed. If the sunrise time was correct, the sky would have colour on the horizon when they got to the surface. 

Jamie heaved the door open. He was in the MP’s office at the party office. The desk was still pushed out of the way and the debris were still scattered about. He pulled himself out of the tunnel and helped the paramedic navigate the stretcher out of the tunnel. There was no good place to put Malcolm. Jamie managed to keep hold of the stretcher while the paramedic exited the tunnel and closed it. The desk blocked the door, but the door was open from when Malcolm and Jamie were last in the office. 

“Take him over the desk,” the paramedic said. 

Jamie moved over the desk and then helped the paramedic navigate the stretcher over the desk and out the door. Jamie tried not to drop the stretcher and set Malcolm down on the ground. He looked at the bottom of the stretcher trying to figure out how to deploy the wheels now that they no longer needed to attach it to the ladders. When the paramedic joined Jamie, the paramedic got the wheels secured and they headed out of the building. There was an ambulance waiting. Jamie rubbed his face. He never wanted to go down to the underground ever again. 

Jamie did not remember falling asleep in the chair by Malcolm’s bedside. Malcolm’s blood sugar had to adjust before he would wake. Even then, the doctors would want to keep Malcolm for a day to make sure everything would be all right. Jamie blinked and looked around. Malcolm was not in the hospital bed. Jamie got out of the chair and went to find a nurse. The nurse explained Malcolm had gone to see a patient in the burn ward. Jamie headed in that direction. 

Malcolm’s niece had suffered third-degree burns in the earthquake. She was sleeping. He sat in the chair at her bedside and let his mind wander. She looked like his mother, though he never saw his mother when she was this young. It reminded him of his mother dying in the hospital thirty years ago, but the doctors said that his niece would likely live. Malcolm looked at the doorway when he heard a noise. 

Ice Man stood there. “May I come in?” he asked. 

Malcolm nodded. “Jamie did this,” Malcolm said quietly. He saw Jamie sleeping in the chair when he left. The awful smell woke him. 

“Yes,” Ice Man said. “He wanted to do it.”

Malcolm nodded. His eyes moved from Ice Man to his niece and back to Ice Man. “I’m not going down there ever again. You need someone cunt to shimmy down and cock about, I’m not that cunt.” 

“I know,” Ice Man said, “but you always say that after you return.”

Malcolm snorted. “They were going to throw me down the fucking ladder,” he said in a grave tone. “It wasn’t as bad as Bosnia, but, like I told you five years ago, I’m fucking done.” 

“And yet, you will help the government rebuild,” Ice Man said. 

“Up here,” Malcolm said, “not down there.” He looked at the man who recruited him thirty-years-old. Ice Man was not much older than Malcolm was. He was far more dedicated to the espionage side of the government than Malcolm wanted to be now. 

Ice Man rose from his chair. “Do you need anything?” It was a professional sounding question more than a personal sounding question. 

“No,” Malcolm said. He watched Ice Man leave. Malcolm rubbed his face. After a while, he left his niece’s room and headed out into the hospital to return to his own room. 

Jamie sat in the waiting room. He went through his phone. He had several e-mails to sift through. A quiet, low, flat tone grew stronger in his ears. He looked up when someone blocked the light. 

Malcolm looked down at Jamie. He ran his fingers through Jamie’s hair and sat down in the chair beside Jamie. They were quiet for a long time. The ringing in Jamie’s ears slowly ebbed away.

“I want to fuck off,” Malcolm said. 

“Me too,” Jamie admitted. 

After a bout of silence, they got up and headed back to Malcolm’s room before visiting hours were over and Jamie went home.

A year later found London still in the process of rebuilding. The party was still in opposition. Malcolm’s niece lived in London on her own. Sam weathered the chaos with her partner. The people who disappeared from Wales were never found. The creatures were never mentioned in the news again. Glasgow was also rebuilding. 

Jamie could hear Malcolm’s breathing. He knew Malcolm was not asleep. Every time Jamie closed his eyes, he remembered the combination locks. If he breathed too deeply with his eyes closed, he thought he could smell death and stale. He stared up at the ceiling, hands folded over his stomach. 

Malcolm remembered the creature that attacked the office. He flexed his hands. He could still remember how he spread his fingers, trying as much as possible to appear too big to engage. He knew Jamie was still awake. He could remember walking for miles underground with Jamie, their adrenaline and the unknown pushing them forward before the creatures chased them to the ladder. He tried to wiggle his toes on the foot one of the creatures bit, but there was no movement. He could not feel much past the scar left from the bite. The super soldier mutation required the serum. A failed super soldier biting Malcolm would not pass the mutation like a werewolf. 

Malcolm rolled onto his side. He let his fingers slide along Jamie’s hand. He knew a year ago, right at that moment, they likely had been running from those creatures. Jamie jumped slightly at the touch and then he rolled over and buried his face into Malcolm’s neck. Jamie wrapped an arm around Malcolm and Malcolm wrapped an arm around Jamie in turn. Malcolm smelled of mint, spice, and soap. There was no trace of strange chemicals or creatures in his smell. Malcolm rested his head against Jamie’s head. Jamie’s hair smelled like citrus and the rest of him smelled of fags and soap. Jamie’s grip tightened protectively. He felt Malcolm’s tighten in response. They drifted in and out of sleep for the rest of the night. Sometimes the noise of a crisp bag echoing in the tunnels somewhere between dream and reality woke one of them or eyes in the darkness with lids that drooped appeared. But, if they opened their eyes, if they took a deep breath, reality reappeared and the illusion of safety crept over them once again. 

  
**The End**


End file.
